


Merry Christmas After All

by yorkisms



Category: Lazer Team (2015)
Genre: Character Development, Christmas, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, LT Weekly Challenge, Multi, Zach's parents suck, in OCTOBER!, lower key so do Hagan's lmao, relationship building
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-20 13:51:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8251426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yorkisms/pseuds/yorkisms
Summary: You don't need wings, or strings or things
  
  To fly on Christmas day.

 
Or: Christmas isn't always the happiest holiday. 
The discovery is: it can be when you spend it right.





	1. Strange to Have Forgotten it After So Many Years

**Author's Note:**

> Since it's the last week and I had too many ideas for this...I wrote a longer one!! Three chapters!! Of character development!! 
> 
> My original concept was something that's spiritually similar to A Christmas Carol, because I wanted to showcase the growth from my headcanons of the places the characters were at prior to Lazer Team to them after the events of Lazer Team. 
> 
> It morphed gradually into three chapters, the following one with purely shinguards-- the later two will contain other characters and be set closer to and after LT respectively. 
> 
> Oh, and since I'm a fan of allusions, the big ones for this fic are the classic "A Christmas Carol" by Charles Dickens (obviously), and the great movie that shaped me as a person "Olive the Other Reindeer."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Your lip is trembling," said the Ghost. "And what is that upon your cheek?"_
> 
> _Scrooge muttered, with an unusual catching in his voice, that it was a pimple; and begged the Ghost to lead him where he would._
> 
> _"You recollect the way?" inquired the Spirit._
> 
> _"Remember it!" cried Scrooge with fervour -- "I could walk it blindfold."_
> 
> _"Strange to have forgotten it for so many years," observed the Ghost. "Let us go on."_
> 
> -Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol

_December 25, 1995; Milford, TX, USA. 9:00 AM CST_.

 

They've both been up since ass-o-clock in the morning, but that isn't stopping either Herman Mendoza or Anthony Hagan from arguing over what movie to watch.

 "We're watching Christmas Story and that's fuckin' final."

 "We gotta watch Christmas Vacation-"

 "No, man. We got one movie before my parents get up and we gotta watch Christmas Story, dammit. It's a holiday classic."

 "You're being a dick, Herman, Christmas Vacation is a bastion of comedy in a cruel and unforgiving world of garbage."

 "I'm being a dick? You're being overdramatic."

 "Am I, though? Am I."

 "We're watching Christmas Story because I have the VCR right here in my hand and my house, my rules."

 "On Christmas? That's cold."

 "Yeah," Herman snorts, fiddling with the player. "I got no heart when people decide they gotta shit on Christmas Story. We are not friends anymore."

 "I'm not shitting on Christmas Story, I'm just saying I wanna watch National Lampoon's Christmas Vaca-"

 "You're dead to me."

 "What did I do?"

 "You soiled the name of the greatest Christmas movie of all time is what you did."

 "You're being dramatic too, it's just a movie."

 "I am fucking with you, you know that, right? Christmas Vacation is a great movie."

 "Thank you."

 "Buuut, Christmas Story is way better."

 "You jerk!" Hagan borderline yelps as Herman flops back down on the couch, grinning.

 "You lose, Tony."

 Hagan rolls his eyes, and Herman shoves him just a bit.

 

- _10:13 AM CST_ -

 

"When are your parents gonna want you home?"

 "I dunno," Hagan says with a shrug, lifting his head slightly from the pile of pillows they've amassed on the couch by now.

 "I don't think they've even noticed that I'm gone."

 Herman seems irritated by that.

 "Well fuck em. I'm more'n happy to take you for the rest'f the day. In fact, you live here now."

 "Herman…"

 "I'm serious. Live under my bed. We're the same shirt size. I'll buy you new boxers. What else d'you need, try me."

 "It's fine. I- I'd prefer to be here for Christmas, anyway-"

 "Then stay forever."

 "You know I can't do that."

 "Yeah, but you can think about it, right? C'mon. It would be great."

 "It would, but that doesn't mean we can."

 "Don't you know what a dream is?" Herman asks teasingly.

 "It's just a nice thought."

 "It is a nice thought."

 "I got you a present."

 "Is that what you do on Christmas?" Hagan asks dryly.

 "Shut up, man, and accept my friendship and shit."

 "That's gonna be my senior quote."

 "If you get that through, I'll pay you a hundred bucks."

 "I'll hold you to that."

 "I bet you will."

 "What'd you get me for Christmas."

 "Keep your pants on," Herman complains, getting up. "I'll go get it."

 It's silent for a moment as Herman leaves to go root around under the Christmas tree. When he returns, he tosses a box onto Hagan, who jumps.

 "Got ya."

 "That's not very Christmassy of you," Hagan says, sitting up.

 "What's this?"

 "Your present, dumbass," Herman replies, sitting back down. "Open it."

 Hagan moves to a better position, and begins to tear off the wrapping paper.

 "You'd better not have gotten me an ugly christmas sweater."

 "You may be disappointed," Herman says with a snort.

 "Oh, no."

 "I found it in a thrift store in town, couldn't believe someone made a Mustangs sweater-"

 "This is awful," Hagan groans, clearly amused nonetheless.

 "I knew you'd love it!"

 "I hate it. I want to burn it, but it's a present."

 "I love you too, buddy."

 "You're the worst…"

 

- _December 21, 1998; Milford, TX, USA, 2:00 PM CST_ -

 

"What're you going to do with that old sweater?"

 He could burn it, he really could, or throw it away, or- anything that would keep it from hurting him whenever he looks at it.

 "Pack it up," he decides. "Put it in the attic with the rest of my high school stuff, okay?"

 "Okay," Marina replies, holding out a hand. "Give it here."

 Hagan hesitates a moment, then hands it to her.


	2. Are There No Prisons? Are There No Workhouses?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Are there no prisons?" asked Scrooge._
> 
> _"Plenty of prisons," said the gentleman, laying down the pen again._
> 
> _"And the Union workhouses?" demanded Scrooge. "Are they still in operation?"_
> 
> _"They are. Still," returned the gentleman, "I wish I could say they were not."_
> 
> -Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Structurally, this chapter is a little more conceptual than the first, but hey.

_December 25, 2010; Milford, TX, USA. 11:00 AM CST._

**One.**

 

It's nearly noon when Herman drags himself out of bed.

He has no love for Christmas these days, holidays like these tend to serve as a painful reminder that there's not anyone around to give a shit about him. Christmas is a day of the year for getting shitfaced and trying to forget that it's Christmas.

There's a quick and excited-sounding knock on the door of his house, and he progresses slowly downstairs to answer it.

On the other side of the door is Woody Johnson, who slightly imprinted himself on Herman almost a year ago.

"What's happening," Herman slurs tiredly.

"It's Christmas!" Woody exclaims brightly.

"So I came over!" 

"Whoop-de-fuckin-doo," Herman mumbles. Woody enters without being invited in- at this point, they're both used to it.

"I brought you a present," Woody declares.

"Neat."

"We can go out for dinner cause I don't think I should be cooking and you don't like to cook…"

"I hate cooking."

"Don't say you hate it," Woody says with a slight pout. "It's Christmas."

"Okay, fine."

"I'm gonna order pizza," Woody chirps.

"You'd better have the money for it."

"Don't worry!"

Woody gets off the phone some fifteen minutes later, when Herman's managed to do the bare minimum amount of freshening up.

"Do you want your present now?" Woody asks. Herman shrugs.

"Sure, whatever."

Woody beams, and hands Herman two six packs of canned beer.

"You're an angel. How'd you even do this?"

"It's a present," Woody says. "M' not supposed to tell you, am I?"

"Yeah, I don't care. Sit down on the couch, we're gonna watch a Christmas movie and I'm gonna get wasted."

 

**Two.**

 

"Ooh, books…" 

"I thought you'd like these," Hagan says.

Mindy's twelve now, middle school is hitting hard, but at least he can still figure out what she wants for Christmas. Granted, they are those pre-teen fantasy-romance books that people are really into these days. 

There are some things that are hard about being a dad, and one of them is that you can never really understand your children.

Oh well. He does his best to speak her language anyway, after all, he won't get anywhere by asking her to speak his.

"If you want different ones, let me know, okay?"

Mindy scans the back of one, then looks up at him.

"It looks pretty good. Thanks, dad."

"Okay, good."

He stands up.

"That's everything. Do you want waffles, or pancakes?"

Mindy pauses, tapping her leg absently with the book she's holding.

"Chocolate chip pancakes?"

"Okay, sweetie," Hagan says, and Mindy looks pleased with that.

"And then can we watch Olive?"

"Yeah, we can watch Olive the Other Reindeer."

"Sweet!"

"You can set it up, okay?"

"Okay!"

She jumps up and begins to press buttons on the TV.

"Wait for me before you start, okay?"

"Okay!"

- _12:32 AM CST_ -

It's probably that she woke up relatively early, but towards the end of the movie (having finished her breakfast) she falls asleep on him. He lets the movie run in case she wakes back up, but she doesn't.

Instead, he holds her close and lets the movie wind down.

_Every day's special, I'm not complaining_

_But I'm always counting the days still remaining til Christmas._

This isn't going to last forever, she's getting older now, and he can see it. Besides the fact that the moment will soon be broken, because her mother is coming over for dinner, and Christmas ends, and soon she'll be older, much older, and they won't have moments like these anymore. 

As much as he would like to keep this one, he can't.

That's okay.

He turns the TV off when it's done, shifts her into his lap, and hums.

 

**Three.**

 

Zach spends most of Christmas morning antsy through mass.

Normally, he can work his way out of it by sleeping in too much, but it's Christmas. He has no excuse. Zach as a person isn't overly religious anyway, compounded by the fact that he's too energetic. He can't sit still. When he was young, he would fidget more openly, get lost looking around, and miss parts of the service. Then his parents would scold him for it, and he would try and explain that he really was trying to focus but it was really hard, and they'd accuse him of lying and trying to cause them problems and it would inevitably end in tears.

Now that he's older, he's got better self-control- almost. He knows how to pretend that he was paying attention, yeah, and keep the noise created by his shifting to a minimum. He's just as unfocused and overenthusiastic as usual.

So he's not antsy for any particular reason other than that's his default state of being when told to sit still for three hours and be quiet.

(Here's the thing--

Zach knows there's something wrong with him. He knows that not everyone feels this way- he has known it for a long time, ever since he was singled out as a problem child and lectured by teachers and parents alike about why can't he just sit still and pay attention. He doesn't know why it is.)

When he finally gets out in the late morning, it's a relief. His parents spend some time chatting with their church friends, which gives him time to step out to the parking lot and get some of that perpetual excess of energy out.

Outside, the sun is gaining strength. Zach loosens his tie and takes a walk from the parking lot down to the end of the street, where there's a Seven-Eleven.

He buys a slushie (why not) and some potato chips, finishing half the slushie on his way back and saving the potato chips for the car ride home. When he gets there, his parents are waiting.

"You're wearing a white shirt," his mother says, and he shrugs, taking a drink. Air and slush rushes through the straw, making a loud noise.

"It's cool, I'm done with it."

She grabs it from him- no big loss, he thinks, there wasn't that much slush left anyways.

"We were waiting for you."

He's done this so often that they don't really need to complain (as they did when he first wandered off at twelve and discovered the Seven-Eleven) that they didn't know where he was and what would he have done if someone grabbed him.

At least now he's taller and playing on the football team now and they're used to it.

"You were talkin' to all those people, I just went to grab snacks."

"We're going to have Christmas lunch when we get home, you didn't need to do that."

"Cool, I'll eat that too."

She sighs, like she's going to say something, but doesn't.

"Get in the car."

Zach shrugs- he doesn't really know what to do or say- and gets in the backseat.

 

**Four.**

 

At the base, Adam notes that there seem to be less people than usual, and he can't imagine why that is. It's halfway through the day when he asks a scientist.

"Why is nobody here today?"

"S'Christmas," the scientist replies, typing away. Adam pauses.

"You can sit down. It'll take a while to calculate the results on this one."

Adam takes a seat in an empty office chair nearby.

"So everyone gets to…not be here, for Christmas?"

"Everyone who doesn't want to," the scientist replies. "Mostly people with kids or families."

"What about you?"

"I really don't wanna deal with my family," she admits. "They're a pain in the ass to talk to most of the time. So I told them that the base wanted me to work Christmas and volunteered to be here."

"What would happen if no one could stay for Christmas?" As in, what would happen to me?

The scientist shakes her head. "That wouldn’t happen, they'd find someone to be here. Keep you company."

"What is Christmas like? If you're not here."

The scientist presses a few buttons on their monitor, then pauses.

"Well, you've read about it, haven't you? I'd think that was part of the whole cultural education thing--"

"Well, yes, but I've never experienced it."

She pauses, tapping her pen on the edge of her desk.

"It really depends on who you spend it with. If it's with people you love-- or at least like- it's nice. It's possibly the happiest day of the year, in that case, because you give them gifts you've thought about and that are definitely gonna make 'em really happy. So that makes you happy. And you just get to spend the day with people you really like."

She snorts.

"On the other hand, if you spend Christmas with someone you don't get along with, it's the worst day- or holiday period- of your entire life. And you would definitely rather die than experience it."

Adam is quiet for a while.

"So you'd rather be here."

"Yeah," the scientist says, putting the pen in her mouth and resuming typing. "My family sucks. Always on me about getting a real job, cause they wanted me to go into medicine. I'm a psychologist. Always on me about when I'm gonna get married like my cousin. Yeah, _she_ went to Cornell, became a doctor, married a guy who's makin' friends now with Mark Zuckerberg. _I_ work for the government."

"Mark Zuckerberg?"

"Rich an' famous."

"I had figured."

Adam pauses.

"After the invasion-- will I be allowed out for Christmas?"

"I guess we'll have to decide," the scientist replies with a shrug.

"I'll put in a good word for you, howabout?"

Adam nods, content with this.

"You wanna hear some Christmas songs?"

"Sure." 

The scientist pauses, and begins to hum. 

"I love Valentine's day and the fourth of July, I'm a little bit sad when Halloween has gone by. And thankful Thanksgiving comes around in the fall, but I've always loved Christmas the best of them all..."


	3. Christmas Present

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It is a fair, even-handed, noble adjustment of things, that while there is infection in disease and sorrow, there is nothing in the world so irresistibly contagious as laughter and good-humour." -Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "oh yeah right it's day three i can finish this fic" -me, two minutes before going in here to post this 
> 
> Shameless fluff. I can't even think of any notes I have for this one. Enjoy the shinguards. Enjoy the kids.

_December 25, 2016; Milford, TX, USA. 6:00 AM CST._

Around November is when Herman migrated from the rollaway to the master bed and nobody questioned it because everyone was waiting for him and Hagan to get together anyway. December 25 is when a loud crash downstairs wakes them both up. Herman pulls one pillow over his head.

"What the fuck was that."

"Are the kids up this early?" Hagan asks, more awake.

"Fuck'f I know," Herman replies, words slurred. "What time's it?"

Hagan checks his alarm clock. "Six."

"Fuck this, m'going back t'sleep. You go check on em."

"Herman, come on."

Herman has already pulled the sheets up, which causes Hagan to sigh and roll out of bed.

"You need to make this up to me later."

"I'll suck y'r damn dick if you let me sleep in."

There's a pause, and Herman snorts.

"Go check on the _kids_ , Tony."

Hagan exits the master bedroom and takes the stairs down to the main floor.

Most of the lights are off, except for the Christmas lights Woody insisted on.

"What's going on?"

The younger three are on the couch in a big pile, at some point someone (Zach?) pasted a red nose on the helmet and it's been there for…a while. It's still there, at least. There's a few pieces of Christmas headwear elsewhere on the couch, and all three are trying to keep a big bowl of popcorn from spilling off the couch cushions.

"Hi daddy," Mindy says, clearly surprised, and slightly out of breath.

"Did we wake you up?"

"Yes."

"Sorry-"

"What are you doing?"

"We were gonna watch a movie," Zach says, "Then we went to get the popcorn and it went to shit."

"It's six in the morning."

"Yes, but on _Christmas_ ," Woody replies brightly. Out of all of them, he's been the most excited for Christmas, getting anyone willing to drive him out to go shopping, making sure that the others have worn at least one piece of embarrassing festive headwear, and the like. And it's only through his prodding that they even got a tree at all.

"Also, dad, I don't know where the Christmas DVDs are."

"With the other DVDs."

"Okay, good."

"Clean up whatever you did," Hagan says finally. "I'm going back to bed."

"Okay," Mindy says brightly. "We were gonna wait for you and Herman to get up before presents anyway."

"Try not to make a mess."

"We can't make promises," Woody points out.

"I said try."

Hagan hears the TV turn on as he returns to the upstairs. Herman's asleep again already, which Hagan really shouldn't be surprised by, but it makes him sigh anyway. He crawls back into bed, tiredly watching Herman for a few minutes before finally falling back asleep.

- _10:00 AM CST_ -

There's a point where they can't sleep in much longer seeing as the kids- sometimes that term for the three of them really makes sense- reach a point where they're tired of waiting for Herman and Hagan to finally get up for good.

They can, however, make the younger ones wait as they get their morning coffee.

"I can't believe you're making us wait so long for presents," Zach complains from the couch, holding in one hand a medium-sized box that's so badly wrapped it's clearly from Woody.

"It's not that long, just a few more minutes."

"Can't believe you like tar with your breakfast," Herman comments lazily, taking a sip of his (at least half-cream) coffee.

"I can't believe you lower your coffee like that," Hagan replies sarcastically.

"I never took you for a purist."

"I never said I was a purist, I said that I'm used to waking up at six to work from seven to nine and you just can't get that from your-- cream masquerading as coffee."

"Touche." Herman takes a sip of his coffee. "You get the emotional energy for _that_ from alcohol."

"Herman, you didn't have a job and DETIA paid the IRS to get off your ass."

"Well, that's because only certain government officials are allowed on my ass," Herman says teasingly, accompanied by a slight eyebrow waggle. Zach groans loudly.

"We get it, you're disgusting, can we open the STUFF now?"

"Shut up, Zach," Hagan replies, clearly redder than usual.

A few minutes later the coffee is done and Woody has gotten everyone over to the couch. Zach has resumed his wearing of a crappy dollar-store reindeer antler headband that Woody picked up for him some weeks ago, presumably to please his (excitable and very festive) boyfriend.

"I will hand out the presents--"

- _10:57 AM CST_ -

Everything's been exchanged, and the holiday hats have been restored (mostly) at Woody's behest for the moment. Everyone's sprawled on the couch in different positions, as A Christmas Story (Herman's buy on pay-per-view) runs in the background. Zach's asleep (he will deny it later, but he is) hanging half-off the couch with the dorky headband staying on. Woody has his feet on Zach's stomach and his back on Mindy's side. Herman has one arm around Hagan- he's always been the more forward of the two- and they're pretty much the only ones paying attention at all. Herman's mouthing the dialogue to himself, even.

"He looks like a deranged Easter bunny."

"Do you seriously have this memorized?" Hagan interrupts.

"Just a little."

"You really love this movie."

"Why wouldn't I? It's still a god-damn classic."

Hagan pauses.

"Wait here a minute."

"What? Okay."

Herman waits, slightly perplexed, until he sees Hagan returning and struggling with a very familiar piece of clothing.

"You kept that?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Hagan asks, as he finally wrests the ugly sweater over his head and returns the Santa hat Woody had given him to its rightful place.

"So many reasons."

"I haven't seen that before," Mindy says as Hagan sits back down.

"I put this away before you were born."

"Is that the high school colors?" Woody says.

Herman snorts.

"You're a sentimental old man. This is the first Christmas present I got him, y'know."

"You got him an ugly sweater?" Woody asks, and Herman shoots him a look.

"It's a treasure!"

"If you insist," Woody says.

"I think that's sweet," Mindy says, light but firm. "That you kept that for so long, dad."

" _Thank_ you."

"Hey, I appreciate that I got to see that rag again," Herman says, before snickering.

"Okay, I'm teasing. It's cute. You make it cute."

"Come on-"

"Ah ah. No arguing on Christmas."

They kiss quickly.

"Gay," Zach slurs tiredly, not having moved from his current (awkward) position.

"Tha's _gay_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr is mttbrand-suffering!! There you may find out more about my writing! Like, possibly, if you have a concept you'd like me to work on for you...how to go about getting that. 
> 
> Also, you can talk to me about stuff. I love being talked to about Lazer Team!!


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